


Sign Here, Please

by hypereuni



Category: Naruto
Genre: Crack, Gen, Kakuzu just wants to get paid, Kakuzu/money - Freeform, Modern AU, Naruto Rare Pair Bingo 2019, Non-disclosure agreements, One Shot, Pizza Delivery Boy Kakuzu, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 22:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypereuni/pseuds/hypereuni
Summary: Working in customer service meant that Kakuzu had seen his fair share of stupid, humorous, or just plain bizarre requests.He’d never had to sign a non-disclosure agreement for a pizza delivery before, though.Written for Naruto Rare Pair Bingo 2019. Fill for Bingo Board B ("Free Space") and Bingo Board C ("Kakuzu")





	Sign Here, Please

“It wasn’t me this time, I swear,” the part-timer said hastily when Kakuzu came into the office and saw the thick stack of paper lying on top of the wrong end of the printer. “I mean, here I was, minding my own business, when the machine just suddenly—”

Kakuzu just gave him an unimpressed look. “You didn’t think to turn the machine off?” he asked. How the boss had ever thought that hiring this boy was a good idea, he would never know. 

“I tried!” the boy protested. “It just kept on going! I even pulled out the power cord but it just…” He made a futile gesture with his hands. 

“…I see,” Kakuzu said. He eyed the stack of printouts balefully. 10, 20, 30, 50, 100, …634 pages. One sheet of paper was approximately two cents (not half a cent, because the boss had insisted on the more expensive inkjet paper against Kakuzu’s own advice), which came out to twelve dollars and sixty-eight cents, not including the cost of the printer ink. If he had to guess, the total amount of money wasted was thirteen dollars and fifty-five cen—no, he was wrong. _Thirty-eight_ dollars, because the idiot boy had used the premium paper instead, which was worth a dime a sheet.

Thirty-eight dollars, which could buy twelve boxes of granola bars, thirty-eight cartons of large white eggs, fifteen pounds of discounted beef liver or 2.2 pounds of fresh monkfish liver to turn into ankimo, steamed and sliced into perfect, orange rounds and garnished with momiji-oroshi, scallions and ponzu sauce. 

Kakuzu wanted to cry.

“It’s weird that they all say the same thing,” the boy went on, not noticing Kakuzu’s internal distress. “Something about a nondisclosure agreement?”

Kakuzu looked at the topmost sheet.

**SAMPLE NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT** , he read.

 

_This Non-disclosure Agreement (“Agreement”) is entered into effective (July 09, XX30) (the “Effective Date”) between:_

_(Hidan) (the “Disclosing Party”), hereinafter referred to as the “Disclosing Party” (“Disclosing Party,” which expression shall mean and include his authorized representative(s), associates, affiliate partners he may be appointing on his behalf or any beneficiaries from this Agreement),_

_and_

_(Ouroboros Pizza), hereinafter referred to as the “Recipient Party” (“Recipient Party,” which expression shall mean and include its authorized representative(s), associates, affiliate partners he may be appointing on his behalf or any beneficiaries from this Agreement)._

_The Disclosing Party and the Recipient Party are referred to each as a Party and collectively as the Parties._

_The Disclosing Party wishes to acquire 1 medium Hawaiian pizza with extra jalapeño peppers and extra pineapple chunks, as well as 1 large Meat Lover’s Pizza with “all the damn sausage” in return for adequate monetary compensation and may have to disclose Confidential Information to the Recipient Party during this transaction._

 

…What.

He skipped over the most of the legalese until he reached the section headlined “Obligations.”

 

_Obligations:_

_The Recipient Party agrees not to disclose Confidential Information regarding the Disclosing Party to any individual, corporation or entity, including any governmental agencies. The Recipient Party agrees that it will not copy, reproduce, distribute or disclose any of the Disclosing Party’s Confidential Information to aforesaid third parties. Doing so will result in the immediate termination of the business transaction between the two Parties, as well as the immediate elimination of the Recipient Party’s representative(s)._

 

T his…sounded very sketchy. 

“Did anyone call about this?” He asked, quickly skimming over the part about confidential information. 

_Warning: the Recipient Party’s representatives may see realistic blood splatters, gore, weaponry, and partial or full human nudity._

It sounded like this guy’s apartment was either a torture chamber or a very hardcore BDSM kink dungeon.

“Yep,” the boy said, digging around his pockets. “The guy who faxed it in called. Said that he wanted to speak to the manager about something important.” He pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it and handed it to Kakuzu. 

“Thanks,” Kakuzu said. He paused before exiting the room. “By the way, the cost of the printer paper is coming out of your salary.”

The boy groaned. 

 

* * *

“Ouroboros Pizza, Kakuzu speaking,” Kakuzu said when the line picked up. He squinted at the boy’s scrawl. “I need to speak to a Mr…Hidan, about an order for a medium Hawaiian with extra—”

“Yeah,” a male voice responded from the other side of the line. “That’s mine. Sign the form before you get here, makes things a whole lot easier. It’s just so you don’t go blabbing around if you see… things.”

The hardcore BDSM dungeon theory was turning out to be very, very likely.

The man yawned loudly. “Stupid forms,” he grumbled. “Jashin-sama insists on it, says that there’re less things to worry about if the paperwork’s filed away, nice and neat. Anyway, just sign the goddamned form so I can eat my fucking pizza in peac—OWWW. FUCK.”

“...Hello?” Kakuzu ventured when the man went silent for a few long seconds. “Hello? Anyone there?” There was a weird sort of choking sound from the other end of the receiver. Something fell with a dull thump.

“ _Fuckkkk_ ,” the man’s voice finally gasped. “Oohhhhhh. That felt good.” Kakuzu could hear something liquid slosh in the background. 

…He really didn’t want to know what was going on in this guy’s apartment.

“Uh, you’re still ordering the Meat Lover’s Pizza, right?”

“Fuck yeah,” the voice mumbled disjointedly. “With extra jalapeño peppers and—oh. Mmmmm. _Yes_ , baby, let it all out…yeah, just like that, you feel so good, I want you all over me—”

Kakuzu hung up. 

“Paranoid sex maniac,” he grumbled. At least the pizza order seemed real. The phone rang again. Kakuzu picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Remember to sign the form before you come,” the man reminded, sounding a little more lucid than before. “Also, I want some extra hot sauce on the side.” 

Then the line clicked. 

 

* * *

The address printed on the NDA led Kakuzu to a meandering forest path that then led to a fork with a sign in the middle that read, “TRESPASSERS BEWARE.” The sign pointing to the right read, “TO THE LAND OF SHEEPLE.” The sign pointing to the left, on the other hand, said, “JASHINISTS, REJOICE, FOR THIS IS THE PLACE OF THE BLESSED, AND WE SHALL ALL BATHE IN THE BLOOD OF INFIDELS.”

It was then Kakuzu realized that his theory about the BDSM dungeon was probably way off.

“Turn left,” Siri said placidly. “After 250 meters, you will see a sign that says, “TURN BACK.” Ignore it.”

Following Siri’s instructions, Kakuzu drove past the sign that had suspicious handprints all over it. His phone dinged again.

“You have arrived at your destination,” Siri said. “You have arrived at your destination.”

“Thanks, Siri,” Kakuzu muttered. There was nothing in site, except for trees and forest and…trees. And for some inexplicable reason, a parking meter. 

“You’re very welcome,” Siri returned serenely. “Good-bye.” His phone screen winked off. Kakuzu muttered a curse before turning the ignition off. He cranked down the side window, rummaged his pockets for a quarter, which he fed to the meter, before grabbing the stack of pizzas next to him. He got out of the car with the pizzas…and then stopped in his tracks when he saw what was in front of him.

“Huh,” he said, staring at the house in front of him that had appeared out of nowhere. This didn’t bode well.

Eh. As long as he remained low-key, he shouldn’t run into any problems. He’d deliver the pizza, get the money, and drive back to the pizza joint and then home for dinner. He was sure he had some raw liver lying around, somewhere.

Yes, he consoled himself. That was an excellent plan.

 

* * *

Of course, Kakuzu should have known that even the best-laid plans never amounted to anything.

He stared at the twenty in his hand, and then at the bare-chested lunatic carving up bloody slices of flesh out of a woman with a scythe. 

“Excuse me,” he said.

The Satanist whirled around. “Now what?”

Kakuzu held up the bill in his hand. “You gave me a twenty dollar bill,” he said.

“Yeah, so? Keep the change, dude. If you haven’t fucking noticed, I’m busy right now.” The man swung his scythe down again with a sickening thud. The body twitched and gurgled. Blood slowly began to pool on the slick wooden floor. 

“It’s thirty-two dollars and twelve cents,” Kakuzu said, ignoring the mess on the floor. He held up the receipt. “See? I’m not lying. Pay up.” 

The man halted and turned to Kakuzu. “Are you for real?” He asked incredulously. “I’m in the middle of something divine and awe-inspiring, and you’re talking about filthy lucre? You’re desecrating the sanctity of this ceremony, man.”

Kakuzu shrugged. “God doesn’t pay for the gas and the rent. Money does.” When the man looked murderously at him, Kakuzu added, “Tell you what. You can round it up to thirty-three dollars if you don’t have twelve cents. I won’t mind.”

“In the grand scheme of things, money means _nothing_ ,” the man sneered. He nudged the bloodied, still barely breathing mass on the floor with a steel-toed boot. “You think money would mean anything to this one when I’m through with her?”

He paused, as if to hear Kakuzu’s response. Kakuzu, however, just stared at him blankly.

“When you live for as long as I do,” the man continued when Kakuzu didn’t respond, “everything around you vanishes. Everything, except for the pain and the suffering and Jashin-sama.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Kakuzu said, looking at the now lukewarm boxes of pizza in his hands. “The Hawaiian and the Meat Lovers’ Pizza will just have to come back with me.”

The man scowled. “Of course I want the fucking Meat Lovers’ Pizza! Why do you think I called you here? Give me that!” He lunged toward Kakuzu, but missed the cardboard pizza box by inches. 

“Twenty more dollars, and this box of pizza will be all yours,” Kakuzu informed him, holding the box just out of arms’ reach. 

“The fuck?” The man snarled. “You said I owed you twelve more dollars!”

“Twelve dollars and twelve cents,” Kakuzu corrected him. 

“Yeah! Where did the extra fucking ten dollars come from?” The man squinted at him. “You taking me for a chump?”

“Deliveries to extra-dimensional spaces cost extra,” Kakuzu said, unperturbed. “Also, I need to pay for my parking meter.”

The man groaned. “That’s such bullshit,” he said.

“I can always make a phone call to the local police station,” Kakuzu returned offhandedly. He eyed the body. “I heard that chopping up people isn’t really the thing to do, nowadays.”

The man snorted. “Good luck with that. If you’re able to, of course.” He pulled out a sheet of paper from thin air. Kakuzu recognized his own handwriting on the paper. “Why do you think I made you sign this non-disclosure agreement before you walked in, smart-ass?” 

“…NDAs don’t work that way, you moron,” Kakuzu gritted out, trying hard not to think about the container of aspirin in his left pocket. “They’re voided once criminal activities are involved, which includes murder and torture.”

“Yadda yadda yadda, shut up,” the man said, rolling his eyes. Then he cocked his head, as if listening to someone else. 

“Art thee th’re, O Great God? Tis I, Hidan,” the man said aloud to the air in front of him, abruptly switching into very polite, antiquated speech. If Kakuzu didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the man in front of him was a completely different person.

“Tell your god that NDAs aren’t meant to be used for criminal activities,” Kakuzu advised. “They might want to take one of those online crash courses.”

“Shut up, infidel,” Hidan snapped, switching back to Modern English. “Jashin-sama’s talking.” He cocked his head again. “Yes, Jashin-sama.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay, cool, thanks.” Hidan winced in pain. “I mean…Many thanks, O Great God.” He looked at Kakuzu. “Jashin-sama says that our agreement, unfortunately, stipulates the immediate elimination of the individual or individuals threatening to go public with our confidential information.”

“You don’t understand half of the words you said just now, do you?” Kakuzu asked.

“Fuck no,” Hidan returned. “And I don’t really need to, because in a few minutes, this whole argument won’t be a problem anymore.” His red eyes gleamed. “It looks like Jashin-sama has other plans for you, money-grubber.”

“Mm,” Kakuzu returned indifferently. He checked his watch. “You have about a minute left until my meter runs out of time.”

“I’m not joking, you know,” Hidan said.

“I’m not, either. Pay up, or I’m taking this pizza with me. Either way, I’m still holding you accountable for my parking meter.”

Hidan laughed. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about parking meters where you’re going.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kakuzu demurred. The other man grinned, teeth gleaming white in the light. He had wonderful dental hygiene. 

“Trust me,” he said, hefting his weapon. Then he struck.

 

* * *

Hidan whistled as he wiped off the blood from the blade. Today was a good day: two sacrifices, and two free pizzas, one of which had EXTRA jalapeño peppers.

Yes, today was a very, very good day. 

In fact, he was in such a good mood that he failed to take notice of the thin, shadowy filaments that rose up from the mangled remains and rapidly stitched ragged pieces of flesh back together. When he did realize what had happened, it was far too late. 

The last thing Hidan saw before he blacked out was the sight of Kakuzu leisurely propping his severed head back onto his neck.

“Normally, I’d have flayed your skin and torn your flesh into a thousand pieces before taking your skeleton and selling it to the medical school nearby,” he thought he heard the man say. “But I have another idea.”

Then Hidan fell into a white haze of silence that was occasionally interrupted by a voice saying: “…and I need you to sign here, here, and here. No, here, you imbecile…”

 

* * *

When Hidan finally came around, he found himself in a dingy office that smelled, oddly, like stale pizza. His stomach rumbled, and he remembered the two pizza pies that were waiting for him back home, wherever it was.

“What the flying fuc—” he started before clutching his head. He had a godawful headache that was killing him, and he didn’t really remember why.

“Welcome to Ouroboros Pizza,” a vaguely familiar voice said. Hidan blinked up and saw a muscular man with shoulder length dark hair. The man smiled, the action pulling the scars stitching the sides of his mouth together slightly apart. It was not a pretty sight. 

“Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck am I here?” Hidan snarled.

Kakuzu smiled down at Hidan, waving a very familiar paper in front of Hidan. “Welcome to Ouroboros Pizza,” he said. “And welcome to a life of eternal servitude. Needless to say, you will not be paid for your work.”

“…You _fucker_.”

 

** AN: I copied most of the legalese from this sample NDA from everynda. com. Please don’t sue me.  **

 


End file.
